Black Butterfly, her end will come, only when mine does

Writings from my journal during my last hospitalization in August '09

The black butterfly consumes me, controls me...she knows me.
She cannot  be killed with chemicals...for years we have tried yet she lives on, stronger this year, than the years before.
She loathes my happiness, despises any self control.
should  she discover a hint of either one, she gobbles them up and becomes more volatile by spitting them back out upon the world as anger, pain, sadness, hopelessness, hate, fear and paranoia.
Defeated, I recoil into myself, begging for someone to destroy her.
She is no ordinary, delicate, colorful butterfly.
Not like the beautiful ones living within children, tickling their fat,
little tummies, causing them to giggle with delight.
My butterfly  is black, wrought iron with razor sharp wings.
She cannot...will not be broken...
until...
I finally am.

Intro to Black Butterflies

From my journal while hospitalized in August '09

Black butterflies begin to stir in my belly,
they work their way up to my chest...
then my mind.
Their Razor sharp wings shred apart my insides causing everything to jumble and spin and ache.
Everything heats from the friction and begins to boil over until suddenly the explosion erupts from my brain, my belly, my chest.
Thousands of black butterflies spew from my body...from every pore...from every part of my being.
Unleashed upon it, the world gasps and is repulsed by my loyal pets.
They swarm around me for hours...days...and then return home to hide.


                                                                                       

Art work by Jasmine Becket-Griffith                                                        
"Dark Ribbon Fairy"
                                                                                            

If I'm so crazy, then why do people keep having sex with me?

I couldn't help myself.  I HAD to share this article.  It gave me a chuckle:)

The beginning of what I thought was the end...

I have been thoroughly enjoying the past couple of days.  In between Doctors, kids, boyfriends and other such things I have been glued to Blogger.


I am somewhat concerned that certain individuals may start to think of me as a stalker as I suddenly begin to appear in the "Followers" box of many of their favorite blogs.  It started innocently enough.  It began with my discovery of f8hasit (btw, I am very proud to have discovered how to create a link) through "blog of note".  I immediately fell in love with her witty and interesting stories.  I decided to be daring and leave a comment on a particularly delicious story "only pie, and never more..." Soon after, I was pleased to find that I had two new followers!   Feeling rather good about myself and the comments left, I decided to explore the rest of the blogger kingdom. 

I came to the conclusion that if I'm following someone because I find them interesting, then they must be following people equally as good.  And so I began to read many of the blogs my followers follow. (too much use of the word follow?) and  I was right.  Now I have become completely absorbed by other people's words.  I love discovering a new blog.  I love finding interesting  posts and widgets.  I love that every one of them is original and custom made with care.  I have especially been enjoying the feeling you get when you glance at the clock and realize that two hours have crept past you...unnoticed. 

Yes...I am enjoying the fact that I am enjoying something.  I feel good about the fact that I have my own blog too.  I have potential and as of today FOUR people are listening!  I can't help but feel like these people are discovering me from the beginning of what I thought was the end.  Something that has been in my opinion, very raw and which has been written with little thought and mostly emotion.

I'm feeling much better now so...where do I go from here?

I intended for this to be a place where I could say what I wanted to say out loud.  It was about BPD and how I suffer.  It was sad.  Who wants to follow a blog that is always down and depressing?  Apparently not very many people!  I get that.

I think this may be the beginning of  a change.  Like my moods, I can see this thing going up and down which is why I still feel that the name is fitting.  "Rider Of The Storm".  That's exactly what it's like.

Have you ever been on a sailboat?  My father had one when I was a kid.  It was a Macgregor 25  called Clova.  He named it (should I be calling it her?) after Glen Clova, a beloved glen in Scotland which is  close to my heart.  We used to go on long trips (they seemed long to me because I hated it most of the time) from Mississauga, Ontario to Toronto Island.  It would take a couple of hours to get there at times but it's not the destination I am relating to.  It's the Journey.

Sometimes it would be "smooth sailing".  Calm waters which would allow me to relax on the bow of the boat and soak in some sun.  At those times it was beautiful.  The water sparkled like diamonds in the sun and  everyone in the family was happy.

Suddenly without warning the wind would pick up.  That's when the chaos began.  My dad would start shouting out instructions and everyone was expected to be on the ball.  The boat would move quickly, slicing through small waves and bouncing up and down.  It was at this point that my very cute little brother would begin to get sick.  He wasn't the only one.  Our poor little Miniature Samoyed (the family dog) couldn't hold it in for very long either.  Between the two of them, my mother would be frantically trying to clean the mess before it spread.

 While all of this was happening, I would usually be holding on to the bars of the bow with my feet dragging through  the water, my hair whipping around my face and my cheeks stinging from the wind.  And then... out of no where, just like that, the wind would disappear and the waters would return to normal.  That is how my mind works too.  My emotions change suddenly, without warning.

Anyhow, I think that I have completely drifted away from what I intended to write about.  I will need to work on that!  What I was trying to get at is that my blog is about to become  multi-faceted and I am looking forward to the change.  Directing my attention to something positive can only be good!

Long story short, I have enjoyed the past couple of days reading all of your blogs.  You have inspired me to get well.  You have inspired me to write about things other than how sad, angry, scared or alone I feel a lot of the time.  You have inspired me to want to write about  the"happy" times too.  I will try to focus on those things with all of you in mind.

Thanks xo

The one that starts out happy but ends on a bad note...why does that happen so often?

My depression has lifted!!!  I still have to deal with BPD and an anxiety disorder but my depression has LIFTED!  It feels really nice to be able to have some positive thoughts and optimism.  I'm hoping it lasts for at least a week.   Maybe this year of hell is over.  Maybe my life will go back to the usual borderline "craziness" and I will no longer live in this deep, dark and secret hole that I have inhabited for close to a year.

That acutally sounds strange, doesn't it?

I am looking forward to my life with BPD?

No, of course not because borderline is it's own kind of hell but it's much worse when you pair it with an anxiety disorder AND deep depression.

I am hoping that it's the medication and therapy that are helping because if they are, I may have a chance at keeping this good feeling.  If it's just a fluke, a flash in the pan, well then I could sink back under at any moment.

As I have said before, I can't really put a finger on when my emotions began to rule my world.  I believe it started at a young age.  I believe that growing up for me was a nightmare of it's own.  The problem is that I don't remember a lot of it and the majority of what I do remember is bad.

Enter... the Facebook photos....dah, dah, dah  (that was supposed to sound dramatic)

A few days ago I logged into Facebook just to see what was going on.  There they were on my page.  Someone had posted pictures (and tagged me in them)  of  what appears to be two different parties.  The comments under the pictures were things like "oh, I remember this like it was yesterday" and "Check out our acid washed mini skirts, I hear they're coming back in style".  Someone asked how old we were when these were taken and another replied that we must have been in grade 6 or 7.

I don't remember those parties like they were yesterday.  I don't even remember all of the kids in the picture or on the thread. I certainly don't remember getting invited to parties! I did recognize two girls.  I remember that I wanted to be like them.  They were pretty and confident.  No one teased them.  Everyone liked them.  They were always nice to me.

So there I was.  Sitting in a chair smiling at the camera.  I had shoulder length hair (permed of course..it was the 80's after all) and a pretty smile.  My eyes were were big and beautiful.  I can't help but notice that all though I was quite thin, my legs look really nice in that acid washed mini skirt. I look happy.  I look innocent.  The girl in the photo is not the girl I think of when I go back to those days in my mind.

 

 
In my mind, that girl is ugly.  She has a big nose and horrible teeth.  She has an obnoxious personality that no one liked.  She is too skinny and her clothes aren't cool enough to be a part of the "in" crowd.  She is reminded of these things every day by all of the other kids.  They go out of there way to be cruel.  They follow her home after school spitting on her and calling her by a nickname.  Every where she moves, every new school she goes to has that one kid who thinks they are original when they come up with that nickname. It's always the same one.  It will haunt her through to grade 10.  That's when she will turn to the world, give it the finger and become what society considers "bad".  The kids didn't bother her after that.  They just left her alone.

O.K!  That was just a horrible moment.  Going back to that place in my head is not a great place to be.  Let's get back on track shall we?

My point is this.  When I looked through the pictures... I saw a different girl looking back at me.  I wasn't any of those things.  There was nothing wrong with the way I looked.  And on top of that, there I was at a party with two girls that I remember being pretty popular.  It looks like I must have had some friends.  I seem to be enjoying myself.  No one is pointing and laughing.  And it's more beautiful because I realize that my gorgeous daughter looks like me!

So here is my problem.  I don't know what is real anymore.  How "horrible" were things really?  Did I get teased here and there but because of BPD it was blown out of proportion in my mind?

  In my mind, the teasing never ends.  Even my little brother used to get in on the act by shooting spit balls at me on the bus with the other kids.

I know it all happened.

But then how do you explain this seemingly happy moment captured forever on film.  Further more, if it is my mind, then have I remembered the abuse from my father incorrectly too?  Did we really have more good times than bad?  I have heard of people blocking out all of the bad things that have happened to them but never all of the good!

This is something I will have to bring up to the Dr. on Friday.  Maybe she will have an answer.  How early can BPD possibly start?

In the mean time.  Some of these girls contact me every once in a while just to say "hi".  Do you think it's a good idea to ask them what they remember?  If I do, they will know how much it has upset my life.  I don't really want them to know but I would like an answer to my question.

Was it really as bad as I believe it was?

Girls who are hated by everyone don't get invited to parties.  Do they?